


Everything but the Kitchen Sink

by sarahcakes613



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Nostalgia, Rafael is soft for Sonny, Shopping, Wedding Planning, but very light, eggshell coloured angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24157876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahcakes613/pseuds/sarahcakes613
Summary: Rafael and Sonny fill out their wedding gift registry.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Dominick "Sonny" Carisi Jr.
Comments: 23
Kudos: 67
Collections: Marriage Barisi Bingo





	Everything but the Kitchen Sink

**Author's Note:**

> This exists because I theorized on Twitter and @blue_spaces, @pan_icking, and @pastelpinktv came through with ideas. All the best bits probably come from them.
> 
> Also, every item that I actually described in any detail is a real thing that exists and is available for purchase on the internet.

Rafael can think of at least a dozen things he’d rather be doing on a Saturday morning that don’t involve spending time in a busy department store. Like watching paint dry, or reading the phone book. He doesn’t really see the necessity, frankly. The store has a well-designed and fully stocked website where they can create an account and add things at their leisure without ever leaving the comfort of their own home. Or their own bed, even. That’s an appealing thought, the two of them tucked up with coffee and the tablet between them, scrolling through china patterns.

Unfortunately, Sonny wants the _experience_ , so here he is, standing in the middle of the housewares department, watching his fiancé wield a scanning gun like he’s clearing a scene. Honestly, considering that he wears a real gun on a daily basis, this should not be as exciting as it is for Sonny, and Rafael had said as much when they were first handed the scanner.

“Yeah, but I can’t do _this_ with my service piece,” Sonny had said, and aimed the scanner at a Dyson. “Pew, pew!” He said, as it beeped.

Rafael had resisted the urge to facepalm, but his hand is itching with the need to give in and they’ve only been at it for ten minutes. He’s confirmed with the registry coordinator that it’s easy for them to go online and remove anything they’ve changed their mind about, and he can already tell he’ll be doing a lot of that. The Dyson’s not a bad idea, but they hardly need a hall mirror that appears to be framed by at least a dozen deer’s worth of antlers.

It is Rafael’s idea to begin with the general household items before moving on to bed, bath, and kitchen, because he know Sonny’s going to have the most to say about the last, and he’s hoping that by then the detective will have expended enough of his energy that he won’t take hours debating the merits of each and every blender.

Rafael isn’t sure his own energy will last through the bed and bath sections.

The pillows and linens are easy enough to agree on, although Rafael does contemplate physically wrestling the scanner away when Sonny scans a dog bed that resembles something out of a Louis XV salon.

“Sonny, unless you plan on putting a _dog_ on the registry, there is _no point_ to scanning a _dog bed_.” He groans through his fingers, having finally succumbed to the facepalming urge.

Sonny ignores him in favour of scanning three different extremely gaudy shower curtains and a bedazzled toilet brush set. Rafael secretly hopes someone buys that, thinking maybe cleaning the bathroom won’t seem so bad if he’s doing it with supplies that look like Elton John designed them.

Rafael is thoughtfully stroking a chenille paisley throw blanket that would look good on the armchair in his home office when Sonny creeps up behind him.

“Pew, pew.” He whispers, reaching around Rafael to scan the blanket. Rafael rolls his eyes, but taps the gun to scan it again, because it wouldn’t be bad to have a second one for late nights at work.

Sonny moves back slowly, hands holding the scanner aloft in front of him. He stops a few feet away from Rafael and points the scanner at his fiancé. Rafael stands still, one eyebrow arched. Sonny presses the scan button and runs it slowly up and down Rafael’s body. When it doesn’t beep, Sonny nods sagely.

“As I suspected, counsellor. You’re priceless.”

Rafael tries to fight the smirk he can feel twitching in his lips, but the ridiculous pride Sonny clearly feels about his joke is endearing enough that he lets it happen. He reaches out and Sonny goes to hand him the scanner, thinking that’s what he wants, but he grabs Sonny’s wrist and pulls him in close, wrapping his arm around Sonny’s trim waist.

“You’re absurd and I don’t know why I agreed to this.” He says, interrupting himself to kiss Sonny as he speaks.

“Hm, I seem to be recall being very eloquent in my persuasion.” Sonny murmurs, kissing him back.

“New rule, effective immediately,” Rafael states as he steps back. “Agreements made while naked and under duress are to be declared null and void.”

Sonny laughs and slings the scanner over his shoulder like a baseball bat. Rafael is momentarily distracted by the image of Sonny in a tight fitted baseball uniform but shakes it away to return to the task at hand.

“Anyhow come on, I saw some really cool crystalware online and I want to see if they have it here.” Sonny leads them to the crystal and glassware, and Rafael’s eyes widen at the sheer variety of whiskey decanter sets.

“So like, I know you wanted to get a set to match the one in your office, and I was thinking it’d be cute if I had matching pilsner glasses, but then I saw these really cool beer steins online and here, what’d you think?”

He makes a little ta-da motion and Rafael comes face to face with a shelf of the most hideous drinking vessels he’s ever seen. They’re crystal, to be sure, but that’s the only thing they share in common with anything he’d ever deign to drink from. They’re brightly coloured, with little pewter eagle figurines atop the hinged lids.

“Sonny, no. Absolutely not. I will not have those monstrosities in my home.”

“Aw, come on, Raf, look at ‘em! They’re great! I am tellin’ ya, my dad sees these, he’s going to want one.”

“Then we'll buy him one for Christmas. We can even buy two, and you can keep yours in his garage.”

Sonny brightens up at the suggestion and agrees to it, much to Rafael’s relief. He then scans a perfectly acceptable set of pilsners and steins that match the cut of his scotch glasses, and Rafael can’t help but feel he’s somehow been tricked.

He puts his foot down again when they get to the holiday décor and seasonal items, because no matter what Sonny says, a New York brownstone can in fact be complete without gaudy light-up window panels of Santa Claus. They host dinner parties infrequently, but often enough that Rafael sees the sense in choosing a few elegant serving platters and he even gives in to his own moment of whimsy with a gravy boat shaped like a nautilus shell.

They both skim over the teapots, and Rafael is happy to let Sonny take the lead in choosing a coffeemaker. Sonny has done his research and chooses one that looks more like it brews mad science experiments than coffee, but Rafael doesn’t care what it does as long as it has an automatic timer.

“Aw, hey, Raf, check these out!”

Sonny is gesturing excitedly to a china cream and sugar set that look like a cow and bucket. Rafael opens his mouth to ask if he’s serious, but Sonny keeps talking.

“My nonna had a set just like this that my nonno brought from the old country. I mean, it wasn’t the exact same as this one, obviously, theirs had little flowers painted on it, but it reminds me of them.”

And Rafael knows better than to try and argue that, so he just watches with a smile as Sonny scans the set. He can’t think of anything similar that his abuelita had, but there were matching salt and pepper shakers that he can remember sitting next to the stove when he was a child. They were little ceramic _tocorocos_ , and they sat there every day until one day when his father decided his supper had been too salty, and threw them on the floor, shattering them. He’s never told Sonny that story, but as he directs Sonny to scan a set of bluebird shakers he thinks that maybe he will at some point.

Rafael’s energy is flagging as they enter the kitchenware, but he can tell Sonny’s is nowhere near expended. He’s halfway tempted to take advantage of the complimentary champagne offered by the registry attendant and just sit with his phone while Sonny Tasmanian-devils his way through the store. He can look at everything online later, after all. But he knows his participation is part of the _experience_ for Sonny, so he soldiers on.

He puts his arms around Sonny and hooks his chin over the other man’s shoulder. He’s looking at casserole dishes, and he hums and leans back into Rafael as he flips through the colour samples.

“What do you think of this one?” He asks, holding up a light blue card.

Rafael thinks about the wood finish on their cabinets, the hardware, the colour of the trim on the walls.

“Maybe something a bit darker?” He suggests, reaching over and pulling out a card that shows a dappled grey-blue pattern.

Sonny scans it, and then proceeds to scan the entire collection of casseroles and matching dishware.

When they get to the small appliances, Sonny’s eyes glaze over and Rafael can audibly hear their joint bank account sighing in relief because today is all about what other people will be buying for them.

He’s not sure they really need two different waffle irons, though.

“Rafi, they make different kinds of waffles,” Sonny explains patiently. “This one makes Belgian waffles, the fluffy kind, and this one makes your classic waffle, which is thinner, that’s what you want if you’re makin’ a waffle sandwich.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever made or consumed a waffle sandwich in my life.”

“Yeah, but you would if I made you one thanks to one of these babies! And look, they have ones that make those little heart-shaped waffles like they got at IKEA!”

“Sonny, I’m trying to say we need fewer waffle irons, not more!”

“Aw, don’t you know variety is the spice of life?”

Rafael just shakes his head and watches as Sonny scans all three. He’s still making “pew, pew” sounds under his breath and Rafael takes a moment to really consider why he enjoys being naked with this man.

He tries to put his foot down again when Sonny starts cooing at a robin’s egg blue stand mixer with a bowl that is bigger than Rafael’s head and comes with fourteen different attachments.

He doesn’t even have a chance to open his mouth before Sonny is arguing his case.

“No, Raf, forget it, this is goin’ on the registry. Hell, if no one buys it, it’s goin’ on my Christmas list. I’ve been eyeing one of these since I was ten years old and my aunt Flavia won one in a church raffle. You got any idea how much easier baking would be with one of these? The things I could make? I’m talkin’ fresh pasta, bread, not to mention all the pastries!”

Rafael opens his mouth for a rebuttal, but is distracted by the list of things Sonny could do with a stand mixer. “Pastries?” he asks.

Sonny grins and waggles his eyebrows. “Yeah, Rafi, pastries. I know you love my cannoli, and with one of these it’d be a snap to whip up a batch of on short notice. And not just cannoli, either, I’m talkin’ zeppoli, amaretti,” He leans in to Rafael’s space and lowers his voice, whispering right next to Rafael’s ear. “Even sfogliatella.”

Rafael’s back stiffens when Sonny leans in. His fiancé is playing dirty now, he knows how much Rafael loves the flaky pastries he makes. Sonny’s breath ghosting across his ear has other parts of him stiffening as well, and he clears his throat.

“Right, well, yes, I suppose it would make things easier for your Christmas cookie exchange.” He manages to say it in an even tone, but the twinkle in Sonny’s eyes tells him he didn’t entirely manage to hide his physical response. He clears his throat again and walks over to the next aisle. Sonny follows him, laughing.

As the registry piles up with small appliances, Rafael starts to think about how much counterspace they actually have, and the cupboards that they will need to dedicate to anything that isn’t used regularly. Like, apparently, three different waffle irons.

Their home is a good size for where it is and what they pay, but their kitchen is still that of a mid-century New York apartment, and it’s not built for this many oversized electrical devices.

“Sonny, _mi sol_ , I think you might be seriously overestimating how much space we have.” Rafael tries to say it in a joking tone, but he’s not sure he succeeds.

“We can make it work, we’ll just rearrange some things, put some extra storage in the dining room. Hey, maybe I can build us a display cabinet, like the ones my parents have!”

“Yes, because we want to show off our three waffle irons to everyone!” Rafael’s tone has now shot straight past joking to snarky.

Sonny’s shoulders slump and he sets the scanner down next to a display of quesadilla makers. He’s half turned away from Rafael and he looks down at his shoes as he speaks.

“I just – you know how whenever we go to my folks for dinner, if it’s just us and not a holiday, we eat in the kitchen?” He looks up at Rafael, who nods.

“My parents, they've been in that house since before I was born. And in all that time, they’ve redecorated, sure, repainted a few rooms, but that kitchen is almost the same as it was the day they first brought me into it. It’s where I came out to ma, it’s where I opened my acceptance letter to the police academy, I mean hell, it’s where I was eating brunch the day I told my parents that I’d met this guy, this arrogant lawyer, real snappy dresser, and I didn’t know if he liked me or not, but I was going to go for it.”

Rafael smiles softly at that. His own story is not dissimilar, sitting with his mother at her favourite bistro for brunch, telling her about the detective he couldn’t stop thinking about.

“I want to create that feeling for our kitchen, Rafi. I want it to be the soul of our home. I know that’s – it's not about the things we have, but…I want every possible excuse for us to spend time in there. Together. Piping cannoli, or lingering as long as possible over coffee before we gotta get to work, or, or, makin’ stupid waffles!”

His eyes are bright as he looks pleadingly at Rafael, and his cheeks are flushed.

“Oh _mi amor_ ,” Rafael murmurs. It used to scare him, how much Sonny meant to him, how much he found himself caring about another person’s happiness. It makes him feel soft, exposed, and right now he may as well be a melting stick of butter, because all he wants in this moment is to come up with the right thing to say that will smooth out the flush, even out the wobble in Sonny’s voice.

He holds his hand out and Sonny puts his own in it unquestioningly, gripping it tightly. Rafael brings Sonny's hand up to his lips and kisses it, kisses his palm, the tips of his fingers, his knuckles.

“Sonny, _mi hermoso sol_ , it doesn’t matter to me what we have in our kitchen, or any other room.” He strokes a thumb across the back of Sonny’s hand, over the titanium engagement ring he is wearing. “But just because it doesn’t matter to me, doesn’t mean it shouldn’t matter to you. So, scan your three waffle irons and build your cabinet. Make the kitchen the place you always want to be, because as far as I’m concerned, the soul of our home is whichever room you happen to be in at that moment.”

Now it’s Sonny’s turn to melt, and Rafael can see it in his eyes, the way they droop just slightly, his mouth quirking into a bashful smile. He draws Sonny in for a deep kiss. He pulls away from the kiss just enough to tilt his head up to Sonny’s ear, wrapping his hands around Sonny’s wrists as he whispers, “But if you scan that fucking quesadilla maker, you _will_ be sleeping on the couch until the wedding.”


End file.
